The Resistance
by thegirlwiththephoenixtattoo
Summary: Harry, Hermione, and Ron's adventures are well known; however, few people know the stories of those stayed behind and fought on the home front, the brave people who formed The Resistance. PS: If any creative artists would like make a banner that would be very much appreciated
1. Chapter 1

Isabel

I quickly glanced back at the door, but snapped my head back to the large eyes in front of me. They were a light green, but only partially visible due to his drooping eyelids. He quickly shut them in excitement at the touch of my hand holding his. His happiness was checked, however, when he saw the seriousness of my visage.

'¡Recuerde!' I commanded as I placed the small slip of paper into his small hand and then wrapped his fingers into a fist around it. 'You deliver this directly to Fleur and only to Fleur. No one else may see you.'

He nodded eagerly. 'Yes, Mistress Isabel. No one shall see Kreacher.'

I bit my lip, but nodded reluctantly. 'Come here,' I whispered as I kissed his forehead. 'Be safe.'

Kreacher slowly raised his over sized hand and brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. 'Kreacher will come home. Kreacher will always come home to his kind and loving Mistress.'

I smiled down into my lap. 'You better get going,' I croaked, 'and don't come back until all of the windows in the house are dark.' I dropped his hands and stood up. The little elf stepped back and with a snap of his fingers he disappeared.

I sighed and looked about my old bedroom, its contents packed up in boxes stacked half-hazardly around the room. The job was sloppy, but on such short notice my mother didn't complain too much—not even her things were packed away to her usual standards. I sat down on one of the near by boxes, but jumped up when the door behind me burst open with a loud bang.

'Are you ready?' My mother said slowly as she glided into the room to inspect my things.

_'_Todavía no entiendo esto._'_

'Practice your English, Isabel,' she commanded as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. 'No one in England will want to talked to you if you only speak Español.'

I sighed and closed my eyes. 'I do not understand why we are moving, especially now with school about to start, and Fernando, and with Abuela's estate—can we even afford to move?'

'Of course we can, we can afford anything we want. Where is your jewelry?'

'Allá—there,' I rolled my eyes and tried to think faster. 'But you said the money was gone—'

'Did you pack your pearls together or separately?'

'Separately like you told me.'

'If you pack them together they will…' She lifted her eyes to the ceiling to think of the English word.

'¿Rayan?'

_'_No más Español. No voy a hablar este otra vez.'

'Forgive me, Mother,' I stepped over to the mirror and stood behind her, 'please.'

'Did you pack your broomstick?'

'Yes—'

'You are not a monkey, Isabel. You are a lady.'

'Yes Mother.'

I could feel her hard gaze on me—it heated my face. I glanced into the mirror and our eyes met. 'Unpack it.'

I silently nodded and moved across the room. Hidden by a wall of boxes, I unzipped a Quidditch bag and removed my broom, placing it on the floor beside me. I paused after a minute and took a breath, sucking up my bravery, and repeated my earlier question: 'How can we afford to move to Britain?'

She sighed and began to speak in Spanish. I relaxed my shoulders. 'I was hoping to tell you once we arrived, but I suppose it is just as well to tell you now: I am engaged to an Englishman, an influential Englishman with a heavily guarded Gringotts vault.' Her tone rose at the end of it, I could tell she was smiling.

I stood still, silent and unmoving. I tried to calculate the proper response, but I couldn't think of a thing to say—my mind was an empty abyss.

'Isabel,' sang my mother in content condescension, 'you are forgetting proper social etiquette…Congratulate me on my engagement.'

I replaced the broomstick in its bag and zipped up the zipper. Silently, I moved out from behind the wall and faced her.

She raised an eyebrow, enjoying herself, and continued, 'you may even thank me for being such a good mother as to give you a such an honorable father.'

'Congratulations, Mother,' I whispered. She remained silent so I added: _'_Gracias_.'_

'In English, my darling.'

I lifted my chin, slightly, against her cruel smile. 'Thank you.'

She nodded and stood up from her perch in front of the vanity. 'Be down stairs in a minute. We leave tonight.'

I glanced about the room for the last time and then followed her out the door.

The house was not a house, but a mansion, a big box like mansion with three floors and an attic. Everything was antique, even the house, which came at no surprise because such lavish ornamentation would have taken a long time produce—a long enough time to permit vast amounts of alcohol to be consumed to imagine such decorations. My room, like every other square centimeter of the box, was filled with light fixtures adorned with naked cherubs and furniture with raven and griffin claws.

I stood in front of a tall mirror from the eighteenth century and scrutinized my reflection. Every detail had to be perfect for her engagement party. I had dug through my boxes of clothes an hour before in search of the perfect outfit, but with every thing so wrinkled I had to settle for borrowing one of my mother's dresses. It was navy blue. The slip covered from my mid thigh to just above my neck, and the same color lace covered the slip and my bare arms to just past my elbows. Classy and modest, but was it too old? Perhaps a sixteen year old shouldn't wear such a dark colored lace… I shook my head, tossing my long brown curls behind my broad shoulders, and took a deep breath. The dress was too loose on my body—I didn't have Mother's curves and she'd be sure to comment on it. I hunched my shoulders forward in an attempt to play the loose fitting off as intentional.

By the time I joined the party it was in full swing, or so I assumed. The harp playing itself in the corner could be heard easily over the silence of the crowd. The people moved in circles, and while their lips moved, their words were barely audible.

I descended the large staircase and slowly entered the party. I smiled politely as I passed each clique, but all I got in return were cold stairs. I quickened my pace when I caught sight of Madre. She was in the center of the room, sparkling brighter than the chandelier above her.

'Good evening,' I breathed as I stood beside her. 'Mr. MacDougal,' I nodded to my mother's fiancé standing next to her. He was about thirty years older and two inches taller than her. His wispy graying hair was slicked back, and the only feature that over powered his face more than his square jaw line was his large nose, which produced peeping nose hairs. "How are you, sir?"

"Fine," he answered loudly, shouting over the imaginary hubbub of the crowd.

I smiled, unable to think of anything to say.

'Is that my dress?' asked my mother as she mechanically turned her neck to face me.

'Yes,' I said calmly. 'All of mine were wrinkled from the move.'

'Well you should have packed them properly,' she bit at me, but she quickly recovered her demeanor and smiled. 'If you had you could have worn a dress that actually fit you.'

'I was just trying to hurry down. I didn't really have time to get ready for the party after I finally finished unpacking.'

She opened her mouth to say something else but was interrupted by a couple who began to offer congratulations to Mr. MacDougal. They were young and the girl, who looked only a year older than I, was draped all over the man, who looked to be in his later twenties. My mother was glaring at the girl, but I couldn't figure out if it was because the blonde had simply interrupted her or that fact that she was wearing a white dress so I decided it was because Señor MacDougal's gaze was continuously returning to the girls partially naked chest.

My mother cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention.

'Ah yes, Charlie, Daphne, meet my fiancée, Lola, and her daughter Isabella.'

'It is a pleasure—'

'Charlie,' barked Señor MacDougal again, 'have you wrangled up the last of them?'

'Yes Sir, I have,' smiled Charlie. He stuck out against the elegance of the party, but no one seemed to notice but me. His hair was long and dirty blond, completely unkempt to the extent that it appeared he had slept in a forest. His face was hairy, too, with his thick eyebrows and scruffy stubble. He smiled, showing his white jagged teeth. 'I move the gang onto Charleston in the morning.'

A chill went down my spine as I considered that maybe his hygiene wasn't a matter of personality but blood. _Maybe_, I thought, _this is what a werewolf looks like._

Daphne made a cute laugh and placed her hand over his heart. 'He wanted to leave tonight, but I told him we couldn't miss another event—especially one as nice as this!' She laughed again and I gave her the smile my mother wouldn't.

It was a pity smile, not for her unfortunately prepubescent laugh but because of her date. I couldn't fathom what a girl like her was doing at a party with a man like Charlie, with a werewolf. She was beautiful with full honey blonde hair she had pinned back nicely. Her skin was perfectly tanned, and while her breasts were a little too large and a little too immodest for her to be considered a woman of high class her shining blue eyes and warm smile made her someone to be desired. She wore a lot of shiny jewelry, maybe he had given it to her.

'Have there been many summer parties?' I asked.

'Not as many as before,' sighed Daphne. Her smile faded a bit, but it returned to its previous standards as Charlie began to speak.

'Too much work to be done for parties!' He laughed, or maybe barked?

'Isabel will you find me something to drink?' asked my mother sweetly as she gently placed her hand over her chest, 'I feel a coughing fit coming.'

I nodded and turned to walk away, glad to be leaving before her real fit began.

'I'll go with you,' said Daphne as she wrapped her hand around my arm, 'I'm feeling a bit parched myself.'

I only smiled at her. I didn't know what to say or what to do, so I let her take the lead.

'This is a beautiful house. When did you move in?'

'We arrived last night, but the floo was slow so our things only arrived this morning.'

Daphne gasped, 'You must be exhausted!'

'Forgive me if I'm terrible company?' I asked sheepishly, 'I'm still trying to get my bearings.'

She smiled and gave my arm a little squeeze. 'Don't worry, you are in good hands.'

I thanked her. I didn't realize how good of hands I was in until ten minutes later when she'd introduced me to a dozen other people she knew and had us invited to several upcoming group outings. I felt like a new piece of jewelry she was showing off to all of her friends; they all smiled courteously, but when Daphne couldn't see envy took over their pretty faces.

'Kreacher,' I whispered into the darkness. 'Kreacher, are you here?'

'Kreacher is here Mistress Isabel, as his Mistress commanded.'

I turned around and pointed my lit wand in front of me. The little elf stood a meter way, but ran forward when I beckoned him with my hand. I dropped to my knees and held him tightly. 'Is anyone else here?'

'No Mistress Isabel.' I could feel the tip of his warm nose pressed against my neck. I shut my eyes tightly and swallowed back the lump in my throat. 'You disobeyed me, Kreacher, but I'm happy you did.'

'Kreacher did not believe the veela. Kreacher knew his honorable Mistress would never abandon Kreacher. Kreacher knew she would never not say goodbye.' His voice cracked a little and wavered as he attempted to control it.

I pulled back and cupped his face in my hands. 'I meant what I wrote in my letter to Fleur: it's not safe for you to live with me anymore. You have to live with Fleur. Serve her as you would serve me.' He began to cry and his tears shook his body violently. 'Hush Kreacher,' I said in an attempt to sooth him, 'this isn't a goodbye forever. I'll still see you and call on you, and when I have a house of my own you can live with me then okay?'

He nodded as snot dripped down from his nose. I wiped it with the long sleeve of my shirt. His eyes bulged, but he said nothing. 'Go,' I whispered, 'Go to Fleur's and don't ever leave her unless I call you.'

Pop. He was gone. Pop. I sat on my knees alone in the darkness that was my family's grand foyer. Pop. My childhood home was no longer mine. Pop. I would once again have to share my mother, except this time I wouldn't receive any of her affection. Pop. The life I once understood had been taken from me. Pop. I was being forced to play an entirely new game for which I didn't know the rules.

I grasped my wand tightly and was pulled upwards by my navel. I landed with a thud on my bed face up.

_Translations_

_'¡Recuerde!' - Remember! _

_'Todavía no entiendo esto.' - I still don't understand this_

_Rayar - to scratch_

_'No más Español. No voy a hablar este otra vez.' - No more Spanish. I will not say this again._


	2. Chapter 2

Neville

I lay on my bed flipping through a copy of Herbologist's Monthly. Unfortunately, it was the latest copy and two months old. Back in June the editor was arrested for being a half-blood—his current condition or whereabouts are still unknown—and not a single issue had been published since.

The release of the pages from my thumb created a small breeze; I closed my eyes and relished the moment of temporary relief from the summer's blaring heat. The entire house felt like furnace: hot as hell in the daytime and slightly cooler in the company of the sympathetic moon. Despite the discomforting darkness, I preferred the night because my recently nocturnal family would come to life. On some nights, if I was quiet enough, I could find Gran sitting on the porch with her feet elevated on the rail with her stockings hanging loosely around her ankles, but if my cover was blown she would hastily pull them up past her knees and scold me for sneaking around. Officially, Mum and Dad were missing from Mungo's, but unofficially they were in the sitting room or kitchen playing with cards and chewing gum I snuck them against Gran's direct orders not to.

There was a loud thud in the room bellow me and relentless giggling—Mum. I smiled to myself, but then frowned when I heard the doorbell chime echo through the house. I pushed myself off the bed and jogged down the hallway, stopping at the first landing on the stairs. Gran was at the door, her large figure temporarily blocking the visitor. After a moment she stepped aside, allowing the person to enter, and looked up at me.

'Well come down here are greet _your_ guest, Neville.' She turned back to the person standing beside her and added: 'I may have raised him, but I did _not_ teach him those manners. Quite honestly he rarely has a visitor, so he hardly has the proper practice.'

I blushed in embarrassment and slowly walked down the stairs toward the pair. I recognized the girl standing next to Gran from her blonde hair and happy disposition: Luna Lovegood. She was wearing a light blue ruffley dress and rugged walking shoes.

'Hi'ya, Luna.' I said as I finally reached them.

'Hello, Neville,' she smiled at me, but said nothing more.

Gran cleared her throat forcefully, causing me to swallow hard. 'How-how are you?'

'Rather tired. I'm afraid father's been talking in his sleep recently.'

I glanced at Gran, but she raised her eyebrow back. 'Um well does he tell any good jokes? In his sleep I mean.'

Luna thought for a moment before answering. 'No, he is more entertaining when he's not unconscious.'

Gran coughed again, but before I could guess the hidden meaning she rolled her eyes. 'Neville, perhaps you would like to introduce me to your little friend here.'

I could feel the heat rise in my face. 'Right, Gran this is Luna Lovegood. Luna this is my Gran.'

Luna smiled and Gran nodded curtly before dismissing herself unhappily. I glanced around us for a moment, unable to think of anything intelligent to say. 'Would you like to sit down?'

'I would thank you.'

I nodded and lead us into the nearby sitting room. It wasn't large, but it wasn't small either. The walls were grey and all of the furniture a light brown with a flowery design Gran liked. On one of the walls sat a large display case that held an antique figurine collection. The couch, cushioned chair, and footrest squatted nearby around the glass tea table. On the walls hung old black and white photos of deceased and living family relatives that were, for one reason or another, no longer in the area.

Luna took a seat on the couch, while I sat down awkwardly on the chair opposite her. She looked around the room pleasantly, taking special note of the figurines. 'How's your holiday been?'

'Fine,' she sighed as she turned to face me, 'I was recently attacked by Death Eaters though. Neville, I came here to talk to you about Dumbledore's Army.'

My mind stopped functioning once I heard the words: death eaters. I slowly glanced behind me at the closed door to the kitchen, where I assumed all of the family was gathered to ease drop on our conversation and celebrate that someone, let alone a girl, had come for a visit. 'Luna, what do you mean Death Eaters attacked you? Are you alright? Was anyone hurt?'

She smiled patiently and nodded. 'I'm fine. A few people were injured, but most left before any real fighting happened. Looking back it was quite comical.'

_Did she just call a Death Eater attack—_'Comical?' I repeated.

'Yes.' Her eyes were wide now, and I could tell she was being sincere. 'It was quite ironic. One of Fleur's friends, a petite Beauxbaton girl, was on her hands and knees freezing several Death Eaters.'

I shook my head trying to picture it. 'Where did this happen?'

'At the Burrow, during Bill and Fleur's wedding.'

My head shot up. 'They were after Harry, weren't they? Well is he alright? Did they get him?'

'He's fine, but Neville that's why I came. Harry left with Ron and Hermione.'

Suddenly I was confused again. 'What does that have to do with us?'

She stood elegantly and walked over to the display case, practically pressing her nose up against the glass. 'Well they are gone so Dumbledore's Army is left without clear leadership.'

I couldn't help but laugh. 'So you came here? You came to Neville Longbottom's house in search of leadership?' I stood up and walked behind my chair. 'I'm real sorry Luna, but you sure came to the wrong house. You'd be better off searching out that friend of Fleur's that you mentioned.'

She scrunched her face in confusion, 'but you're the Chosen One.'

'Luna, where have you been all these years?'

'My house in Surrey, Hogwarts, Ireland, the Amazonian rainforest—'

'Harry is the chosen one.' I said cutting her off, 'Not me.' She only smiled at me, as if she knew something I didn't. 'It's always been him. Didn't you see the Prophet before it went to hell? Every other article was called "Harry Potter: The Chosen One" or "Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived."'

'But Harry isn't the only Chosen One.'

I sighed, knowing that all of this was just another one of her crazy moments and a waste of time. I didn't kick her out or cut her off though; it seemed rude, and after spending the entire summer at home, I was somewhat grateful to have some fresh company.

'What are you talking about "not the only Chosen One"—there's only one Chose One. It's in the name!'

She shook her head adamantly. 'Harry has always needed help for every task he's ever done! He's never been alone in this fight, why would he suddenly be now?'

I grimaced, seeing her point and yet still being utterly confused. 'But how could I lead Dumbledore's Army? Any spell I know first years know! I'd be of no use.'

Luna frowned and walked over to me. 'The bigger problem is getting other people to believe in you, when you don't even believe in yourself. You are extremely courageous, Neville, and it's a pity you can't see it.'

The clock in the kitchen next door chimed loudly causing me to jump. Luna stepped back and began to head towards the door. 'I'll see you at the Burrow, then!' she called over her shoulder before she dissaperated.

I stood in the middle of the sitting room, for a moment completely unsure of what had just happened or what I was supposed to do. Luna had visited. She had asked me to lead Dumbledore's Army in Harry's absence. She had said that I was the other Chosen One. She had liked Gran's porcelain figurines. She had left mentioning something about the Burrow and seeing me there.

I grasped the back of the chair I had just occupied, the scratchy texture assuring me that I had not been dreaming. I could see myself walking through the kitchen door and sitting next to Mum at the dinner table, avoiding Gran's numerous questions about Luna's visit and ignoring her nagging about combing my hair. It's what I had always done; it's what had always been normal to me. But nothing these days was normal. People were going missing; families were being torn apart; and now weddings were being crashed by death eaters. The only things I was definitely sure of was that: Harry was gone; Dumbledore was dead; and my world was in utter chaos.

I didn't take another moment to make my decision—I didn't need to. Suddenly, I was running up the stairs to my bedroom in search of parchment and a quill, ready to put my good-for-nothing owl to work.


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny

I sat hunched at the kitchen table, absentmindedly tapping my toast against my plate as I stared out the window. Early that morning I had changed out of my bridesmaid dress and into an old Chuddley Canons T-shirt, but I hadn't gotten any sleep—I knew any attempt to do so would be pointless so I didn't even try. I just came down to the kitchen and made some toast.

Now the sun was up and the damage from last night was appallingly apparent. Outside the window the wedding tent lay limp on the ground with large gashes and singes on the canvas. Chairs and tables stuck out of the ground awkwardly as if a giant had thrown them around the yard, and the bushes and vegetable gardens looked like a blind man had trimmed them—like my pretend Uncle Stephen had trimmed them.

The ceiling above me creaked. I dropped my toast onto the plate and walked it over to the sink. I turned on the faucet and watched as the bread went from crisp to sodden. _Why would someone attack a wedding?_ I thought. _What could they possibly gain? And how did they bloody do it? _I saw Dad and Mad-Eye put the protections up—the same protections Headmaster Dumbledore himself had put up at Hogwarts. There was no way anyone could have broken through, but some how they did. Somehow Death Eaters had managed to invade the Burrow—somehow they had invaded home. I tilted the plate and the soggy mush that was my toast slid off. I cleaned the plate and then sink. Next I did the counter and the tabletop.

When the wooden stairs groaned behind me, due to someone descending from a few floors above, I was scrubbing the floor.

'Ginny?' I heard Mum yawn. 'What heavens are you doing?'

'Cleaning,' I grunted as I scrubbed at an old stain.

'All these years you have never once tidied your room and suddenly you are scrubbing the kitchen floor without any pants no less.'

I sat on my knees and tossed the old sponge aside. 'I just came down for some breakfast,' I said as I yanked down on my oversized T-shirt. 'And I washed my plate and then everything was just so dirty so I—'

'Started cleaning.' I looked up at her. She seemed less than convinced. Mum adjusted the white nightcap that struggled to lie on the top of her head because of her thick curly hair. She was still in her old nightgown—the one with the puff sleeves and that went to her toes—but sleep was a long time gone from her eyes. She sighed, 'well did you have a proper breakfast?'

I shook my head no.

'Well then sit, sit! I'll fix you something.' She walked over to the pantry and pulled several eggs out.

'I'm not very hungry,' I said, but I sat down at the table anyways. It was comforting for her to make me breakfast, like in some way things were still normal. 'Mummy?'

'Yes dear?' she pulled out a loaf of bread and cut it into several pieces.

'Why did they attack the wedding? What could they have gained? They couldn't have known Harry was there.'

Her back tensed and she laid down her knife. 'We took every precaution in protecting him.' She turned around to face me. 'I think they guessed he would be here, and they guessed right.' She turned back to the bread and began to place the slices into a basket. 'The Order should have hidden him in a better safe house, though, a less obvious one if you ask me.'

She placed the basket on the table and continued fluttering around the kitchen. I took a slice of bread and began to tear it into pieces. 'I hope they're okay. Harry, Ron, and Hermione I mean.'

'I'm sure they're fine, dear.'

'Yah, me too.'

She must have sensed the sadness in my voice because she came over and sat down next to me. I tried to give her a smile but I couldn't, so instead I rested my head on her shoulder and she hugged me to her.

'Everything's going to be alright,' she said as she rubbed my back.

I shook my head in the crook of her neck. 'You don't know that,' I said. 'First they attacked Hogwarts and murdered Headmaster Dumbledore, and now they've invaded the Burrow. They were here, Mum! They were here at the Burrow—home! It's all dirty now. Everything just feels dirty.'

She rocked us back and forth, and sighed: 'well then I guess we'll just have to clean it. All of it.'

I lifted my head and looked at her. 'Have we ever cleaned the entire house?'

She thought for a moment before answering. 'No, I don't think we have!'

We looked at each other and then began to laugh. It felt good to laugh. As my body shook some weight form my shoulders lifted and my heart felt lighter. The laughter ended though and the weight settled back in, but at least for a moment I was able to breathe.

We spent the rest of the day cleaning. We finished the kitchen, and I put on some pants. We cleaned the living room and the staircase. We cleaned every landing and every room without a sleeping body. When the boys awoke Mum sent them outside to pick up the rubble. I followed them and cleaned off the tables and chairs once they were pulled from the ground. Mum rightened the shrubberies and the flowers, while I scrubbed the outside of every window in the Burrow.

At noon, Mum called for the stopping of all work and ordered everyone inside for lunch, but instead of sitting with the others I asked to take mine upstairs so that I could clean my room while eating. Mum agreed, but only after taking my temperature.

Once I reached my room I closed the door and tossed my sandwich in the rubbish bin. I stripped my bed and threw the sheets and blanket into the laundry basket. Next I threw all of the loose parchment on the ground into the rubbish. I followed a trail of ground up parchment to my desk and began to sift threw the clutter. On the top were old school books, quills, and Honeyduke's wrappers. Those, too, found their way to the rubbish.

I sat down in my chair and opened the bottom drawer. I plunged my hand into the drawer and fished around for a few seconds before I was able to withdraw the old leather journal I had been searching for. I unwrapped the leather strap surrounding it and opened the front cover. Harry stared back at me.

He looked confused, but then he blushed. I picked up the black and white picture just as he became confused again. I remembered the day I had taken this. We had been sitting out by the lake 'studying.' In truth we were just lounging around, enjoying the weather… and each other. Harry had begun to play with his snitch and I took advantage of the respite to pull out my camera. Of course after I had taken it Harry had whined and demanded to take my picture. Luckily, I had been able to diffuse the situation before he could figure out how to forward the film.

'Ginevra.'

I slammed the book closed and blushed deeply. 'Sirius!'

He nodded to book in my lap. 'What you go there?'

'Nothing of importance to you.' I stood to face him, clutching the diary to my chest. 'What do you want?'

He narrowed his eyes. 'To know where Harry is.'

I raised my eyebrow. 'If I knew where he was, do you really think I would be standing here talking to you?'

'They boy's mad about you—he must have told you something.' He stepped past the threshold into my bedroom.

'Well he didn't.' I said angrily. 'He left me just like he left everyone else.'

Sirius made a clucking noise as he stepped closer to me. 'I don't believe I received a goodbye kiss from my godson. Did you?' He smirked, making me feel increasingly uncomfortable. 'You don't have to respond to that. I already know the answer.'

I tilted my chin up defiantly. 'If he was so mad about me, he wouldn't have dumped me and he wouldn't have left me either.'

He touched my bare bed with his hand, as if the mattress was something interesting to him. He sighed, still looking at the mattress. 'He probably didn't want you to get hurt. It's what James would have done.'

'Harry isn't his father.'

'No,' laughed Sirius looking up at me, 'but stupid gallantry does run in the Potter family, wouldn't you say? Now why he left me here I have no idea.'

'Probably for the same reason.'

'Yes, except I'm not a damsel in distress.'

'Neither am I.'

He glanced over at me again, 'but you would have been.'

I was about to bite back at him, but Mum called my name from downstairs. 'Coming Mum!'

I put the leather diary back in its place in the drawer and walked past Sirius.

'Ginny,' he said as I reached the doorframe. I stopped and raised my eyebrows expectantly. 'Are you returning to Hogwarts next year?'

'Of course.' I honestly hadn't even considered not going—I never thought to.

He nodded. 'Give Snivellus hell for me.'

I nodded, but hesitated. 'You don't happen to have another copy of that map do you?'

He frowned. 'Unfortunately I entrusted my copy to the wrong person and one way or another it was destroyed.'

'That's all right. Thanks anyways.' I headed downstairs and continued to clean with Mum. It was less therapeutic than in the morning, but it seemed to give Mum some comfort so I continued to scrub but less passionately.

At the end of the day Mum and I lay sprawled out on the couch. Too tired to cook, we ate Harry's birthday cake for dinner.

'Happy belated birthday, Harry,' I mumbled as I placed my plate and fork in the sink.

Suddenly something flew into the kitchen window, shattering it completely and making me jump back. I placed my hand on my chest and felt my heart start beating again.

'Just an owl!' I hollered so the feet scurrying above me wouldn't worry.

The old barn owl shook himself out and then held out his leg. I untied the parchment and opened it quickly.

'Ginny!' panted my mother as she reached the kitchen my father and brothers behind her. 'Who's it to? Who's it from?'

'It's for me and it's from… Neville.' I looked up at them and saw that their faces displayed my own confusion.

The three of us sat around the kitchen table. Neville scratched at the back of his neck repeatedly. Luna stared out the window watching the clouds pass by slowly, and I bit my bottom lip anxiously as I watched them.

'Your owl broke the window.' I said, finally breaking the long silence.

My words seemed to wake Neville up from his daze. 'I-I'm really sorry. Was the damage bad?'

I smirked, amused at how easy it was to get him riled up. 'Nothing Dad couldn't fix. Your letter intrigued everyone though.'

He blushed deeply. 'You-you shared it with everyone?'

'Your owl broke the window.' I repeated with my best patient smile. 'You uh said it was urgent…'

'Right,' he nodded, 'it was—it is. W-well as you know Harry's gone.'

My smile tightened. 'Yes, I know.'

'And so are Hermione and Ron,' he continued as he scratched the back of his neck again.

'I know that too.'

'We want to continue Dumbledore's Army,' said Luna, suddenly turning her attention to the conversation at hand, 'and we need your help to do it.'

I nodded and sat back in my chair, trying to think of the right response. My first reaction was to jump up out of my seat and begin to plan meetings and lesson plans, but I knew with Snape as headmaster D.A. would be risky and harder to coordinate. I didn't see how anyone could pull it off without Hermione's organizational skills.

'It'll be tricky,' I finally said. 'Snape will be ten times worse than Umbridge, not to mention what will happen if we get caught—rumor is Death Eaters will be in the castle at all times.' I paused before adding: 'Order intelligence confirms that the Carrows will be there.'

Neville nodded and placed his hands on the table. 'Harry's gone and something has to be done about Hogwarts—it's home! Snape was able to kill Dumbledore, but he is not going to take Hogwarts just like that. We have to fight!'

'If we don't fight,' said Luna quietly as she glanced between the two of us solemnly, 'no one else will.'

I glanced at the center of the table where yesterday's Daily Prophet lay after being tossed aside by Sirius that morning. On the cover was a large picture of the new Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknessee, and Professor Umbridge smiling and nodding. The article surrounding the picture was about the new Muggle-born Register.

I quickly lunged forward and took the paper in my hand. Then, in one clean motion, I tore it in two.

'Let's give them hell,' I said as I tossed the shredded paper back onto the tabletop.


End file.
